


Breakup

by William_Easley



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/William_Easley/pseuds/William_Easley
Summary: Not really part of my AU, this story considers the aftermath of Dipper's alerting Wendy to the backward message in the song Robbie "wrote" for her. How can Dipper reconcile with a hurt, angry, and depressed Wendy - or can he?
Relationships: Wendy Corduroy/Dipper Pines
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Breakup

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the show Gravity Falls or any of the characters. They are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of the show's creator, Alex Hirsch. I earn no money from writing my fanfictions; I do them out of love for the show, for practice writing, and to amuse myself and, I hope, other readers.

* * *

**Breakup**

**By William Easley**

_1-Lookout Point_

Elated, Dipper high-fived his Grunkle Stan. Then he saw that Wendy was stalking away, evidently determined to walk home from her disastrous date with Robbie—six or seven miles, and dark was coming on. Dipper rushed after her, calling, "Um, hey! Uh, now that your night is free, me and Grunkle Stan are thinking, maybe bowling, or something?"

To his shock, she spun on him, her expression furious, and tears spilling from her eyes. Clenching her hands, she demanded, "Are you serious? Right now? Aggh, what is _wrong_ with guys? You only think about yourselves! " Her voice was breaking, and, weeping, she gasped out, "All of you should just leave me alone!"

Dipper felt as if he had just been punched in the gut. Stan exchanged a few words with Robbie, and Dipper climbed into the passenger seat of the Stanleymobile. Stan got behind the wheel and asked, "Seatbelt fastened?"

"Yes," Dipper said. "Hurry. We can't let Wendy walk all the way to her house at night."

Stan fired up the engine and drove down the winding road that led to the scenic overlook that doubled as a lovers' lane for kids. Dipper kept a lookout. He saw no sign of Wendy. They drove back to the Mystery Shack instead.

That night Dipper couldn't sleep. Mabel, who'd been involved with her crush on the music group Sev'ral Timez, wasn't in her bed. She finally came dragging in around sunrise, sniffling.

"What's wrong, Sis?" Dipper asked.

She settled on her bed. "I had to let them go," she said.

"Let who go?"

"The boys. Sev'ral Timez. I set them free. Sent them into the woods to cavort like woodland creatures."

"Wait, what?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you about it when I feel better." She lay down, curled up with her back to him.

Dipper got up and dressed. He went downstairs and sat on the loveseat in front of the TV, which he didn't bother to turn on. And he brooded.

Stan came in and had his morning coffee and toast. "What's the deal, kid?" he asked.

"I thought I was helping Wendy," Dipper muttered. "I just . . . I just made her mad. But I didn't mean to."

"Women. They're the real mystery, Dip. You ruin their date, drive their hippie boyfriend's van into a ravine . . . and somehow you're the bad guy."

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have meddled in Wendy's personal life. She probably hates me now."

They talked about it a little. Stan stretched. "Well, gotta open up shop soon. You had breakfast?"

Dipper shook his head. "Just not hungry."

He did the morning clean-up and kept looking out the window, watching for Wendy rolling up on her bike. She didn't show up. Wendy wasn't the most punctual person in the world, but normally she came in at least by nine-ten in the morning. By nine-thirty, Dipper was feeling sick.

He'd been planning out his apology, rehearsing in his head everything he wanted to say to Wendy. His empty stomach fluttered with anxiety and doubt, and he fretted that she was late because—

Gasping, Dipper blinked. What if Wendy never got home last night? What if something happened to her?

He fumbled for the Shack telephone and punched in Wendy's number. On the first ring, he got the recording: "Hey, dude, you missed me. Leave a message."

_That means her phone's either turned off or the battery is dead or it's broken or—_

Dipper ran upstairs, grabbed his cell phone, and then hurried outside. Behind him, Grunkle Stan called, "Hey, Dipper, where are you—"

He didn't even slow down.

* * *

_2-Where's Wendy?_

The Corduroy cabin was four miles from the Shack. Dipper ran nearly a quarter of that, and then, as he tired, slowed to a fast walk. He thought of something and then called Tambry's number.

And she answered. "Dipper?"

"Listen, Tambry," he said, "I'm worried about Wendy. She had a rough night and she hasn't come in to work, and she's not answering her phone. Have, uh, have you heard from her this morning? At all?"

"Uh—"

"What is it?" he asked, panicked. "Tambry, is she hurt, or—"

"No, no, I just don't know—yeah, she called me early this morning. I just don't know if she'd want me to—"

"Tambry, please!" Dipper begged. "I have to know if she's all right. What happened? Where is she?"

Tambry sighed. "She's gonna quit her job, Dipper. She's going to go work for her cousin up north. He's like a logger or something."

"Her cousin Steve?" Dipper asked, his heart climbing up his aching throat.

"Yeah, I think that's right."

"Up in the north woods? Oh, no. She hates that place. She's scared of that place!"

"Yeah, but for some reason—"

"Wait, is her dad driving her? Has she left yet?"

"I think she's going by bus. I'm sorry, Dipper. I think something happened with her and Robbie."

"Thanks," he said. He turned around. He had to backtrack now, after having already gone a mile.

He ran all the way to town.

* * *

_3-Please_

The Speedy Beaver bus stop was not far from the town hall. Before he reached it, Dipper could see Wendy, sitting hunched on the bench, a bedroll and huge backpack beside her. She looked abjectly miserable, her hands hanging between her knees, her downcast eyes staring down into the gutter.

By then Dipper's legs were shaky. He hadn't run that long ever. He came stumbling and up to Wendy, and she looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. She did not smile.

"Wendy," he said. And he tripped on the curb and went sprawling on the hard concrete.

Wendy sighed and got up and pulled him up to his feet. "Your knee's bleeding," she said.

"It—it's just a scrape. I'm OK. Wendy, I—I'm so sorry!"

"Yeah. I guess I should have called Stan. I saw I had a call from the Shack. I just don't want to talk."

"Can I sit with you?" Dipper asked.

"I don't own the bus stop."

Dipper sat as far as he could from her. Everything he'd rehearsed saying to her—where was it? Gone from his head.

"Wendy—" Now he was close to sobbing. "I—I—Wendy, I—"

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Look, just say goodbye and go, OK?"

"I shouldn't have—I worried about you when I found out—about the song—I shouldn't have meddled. I was wrong, Wendy. Please. I—look, you don't have to talk to me anymore or—or be my friend—but—I know you hate your cousin Steve's lumber camp. Please don't go. I'll stay out—out of sight—oh, Wendy."

Wendy sighed. "I'm gonna have to deal with Robbie now. He's kind of a jerk, but I've known him forever. And he's selfish and he won't give up easy."

By then, Dipper could barely whisper: "I won't ever—I won't bother you about—anything. I promise. I swear. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Here comes the bus."

"Wendy, don't let what I did make you do something you hate. Please. Look, I—I'll call Mom and ask her to let me come home. I'll be gone. Stan needs you, and Mabel will—Mabel is—please don't go!"

The bus pulled up and the brakes creaked. The door opened, and Dipper heard the driver call, "Gravity Falls! Five-minute stop. Gravity Falls!"

"Goodbye, Dipper," Wendy said flatly, getting up and hefting her bedroll.

"Wendy," Dipper pleaded. "I'll do anything. Only please don't go. I know you'll be miserable up there. I can't stand thinking of that. Anything. Just tell me. You—you don't have to be my friend, or even forgive me, but please, please, don't go."

She stood there, holding her bedroll over her shoulder and her big backpack in the other hand. "I really hate to go," she said.

"Then don't. Come back to the Shack with me, and then you won't ever have to see me again."

"Why did you bring that recording to me last night?"

Dipper hung his head. "Because I wanted you to know that Robbie was trying to hypnotize you. Because I don't like Robbie. He treats you bad, and—he—and I wanted you to—to like me. I'm so sorry. I was selfish."

Wendy didn't say anything but stood looking at the open door of the bus. "You really will go back to California?"

"If you want me to," Dipper said humbly.

"You wouldn't miss me?"

Now Dipper was actually crying—tears ran down his face. "I will, so much. I'll never forget you, but—but I don't want—I don't want you to be unhappy."

"Carry my backpack?"

Dipper nodded. It was heavy, but he shouldered it.

"Let's go to the Shack," she said.

The bus driver called out, "Boarding for Kearney. Passengers for Kearney, boarding now!"

"Remember, Dip, I still got my ticket," Wendy said, tapping her shirt pocket as she and he walked away from the bus stop.

A third of the way back to the Shack, with Dipper staggering under the weight of the backpack but not complaining, Wendy said, "Stop, stop, stop. Here, give me the backpack. You take the bedroll. It's not as heavy."

"I'll carry the backpack. I don't mind."

"Is your leg hurt bad? You're like staggering."

Dipper shook his head. "My knee's scraped, but it's not bleeding now. I'm just—just tired. When you didn't come in this morning, I called, but you didn't answer, and I got worried and started out for your house, but because you weren't answering your phone, I called Tambry—I'm sorry—and she said you were going to be taking the bus. I'm sorry. I ran downtown because I had to talk to you." Dipper swallowed. "I, uh, I'd headed toward your house, but then I ran all the way downtown. Legs are just tired."

"Give me the pack, man." She sounded so impatient that Dipper meekly swapped burdens with her. The bedroll was much lighter. Wendy walked slowly. After a while, she said, "Guys just don't get it. They think about a girl like she was some kind of prize. Dipper, you can't own a girl. And you cant act like a girl doesn't have feelings, man. Yeah, I was hurt and mad 'cause Robbie was such a creep. And I don't know, maybe that hidden message did kinda hypnotize me. I was sick of his treating me like dirt, and I'd already told him I wanted to break up. Then he played that song and I changed my mind. Yeah, he was a jerk to pull that. But—man, I've known Robbie since fifth grade! I could handle any crap he tried on me. You gotta trust me, Dipper."

"Yes, Wendy."

Gopher Road led uphill out of town. Dipper's legs and feet were aching dismally. But he kept pace with Wendy. "Yeah," she said as if Dipper had made a comment. "That lumber camp—ugh! I like working in the Shack better. See, my dad insists I gotta work in town or go up into the woods to my cousin's camp. So—OK, I won't run off. I'll stay. But I'm hanging onto the ticket. Look, you don't have to go home to California or whatever. Just—I don't know—just give me some space for a few days. Give me time to get it together, OK?"

"I promise," Dipper said.

They turned at the driveway to the Shack. A few cars were parked there—it was after ten by that time—and Wendy said, "Gonna have to act like I feel OK and slept last night."

"Did you walk all the way home?"

She nodded. "Got there after midnight, but couldn't sleep. And when I thought about having to go in and work—I wasn't thinking clearly, I guess."

"I couldn't sleep either," Dipper said. "I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah. Like I say, for the next few days, just give me space."

They came in through the family entrance. Wendy asked, "OK to stash my bedroll and backpack in your room?"

"Yeah. I'll take them up. Mabel's probably still in bed. She didn't sleep last night, either."

"Thanks, man. I better go sell stuff to these tourists."

"Is—is it OK if I come back into the gift shop?"

"Not right now." Wendy thought for a moment. "I didn't pack a lunch," she said. "How about you make me a sandwich around twelve-thirty? But just let me be by myself at the register until then."

"Sure."

Wendy headed for the gift shop, but as she reached the door, Dipper said, "Uh, Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for giving me—giving the Shack, I mean—another chance."

"We'll see," she said.

Dipper hauled her luggage upstairs. Mabel was snoring away. Dipper lay down, his legs aching and his head spinning from lack of sleep.

He didn't know how he felt. Maybe his friendship with Wendy was broken. Or maybe it could be mended. Either way, it had changed.

Dipper set his bedside alarm to ring at twelve-fifteen—just a little over an hour. And, wishing he could somehow stop the hurting, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
